Heirs of Durin Fall Into Dust
by ElvishPrincessOfMiddleEarth
Summary: WARNING, SPOILERS! An emotional retelling of my take on how the Heirs of Durin fell in the battle of the five armies. Contains strong violence (durr, it's about one of Tolkien's battles.)


**SPOILERS!**

This a story of the battle of the five armies and the end of Fili, Kili and Thorin. Please enjoy. Also note,_** THE SONG THORIN SINGS WAS WRITTEN BY J.R.R TOLKIEN, ALL CREDIT FOR THE SONG GOES TO HIM.**_

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The light was cold; the sunlight shone weak and glittering, choked by dark mysterious clouds. Goblins and orcs swarmed around the mountain, scrambling on the bloodstained rock, like a foul swarm of crawling spiders. Each shrieked with bloodthirsty excitement, glowing yellow eyes gleaming. Their mutilated bodies had strange twisted knives; rusted blades and spiked axes, serrated and deadly, spiking from them in their claw-like hands. Ghastly head to foetid stamping foot, they reeked of death and decay. The goblin and warg armies poured, endlessly from behind every rock, dying burnt tree and hole in the earth. Some were mounted upon huge lumbering beasts, wargs, massive wolf like creatures, fur flecked with the blood of their victims. The orcs roared with spite. Teeth gnashing, oozing flesh flexing they battered and bashed, sliced and skewered, dellocated and decapitated line after line of quaking men until it became a huge chaos and confusion of clashing weapons war cries and bodies lying under the soldiers feet. Elves, men, dwarves, goblins and orcs, lay still in the mud, a raging mass of bodies above them crushing them underfoot.

And on the mountainside stood Thorin in glory and blood, glowing sword in hand, Orcrist the biter, orc cleaver and goblin slayer, tipped with agglutinative black blood of orc. He fought in honour, standing in the sliver of sunlight that flickered through a parting in the cloud and fog. A round him, scattered vaguely, fought his kin, the dwarves who had accompanied him so far to their homeland. Blood and sweat mingled, orc after orc fell at his hand. His thoughts through his head were vacant, no words or formed logic, just emotions of anguish and adrenaline, fear scattered briefly among them. His eyes were wide and constantly he scanned the battlefield for his friends, when they disappeared from his view his heart sank for a moment before commencing another combat with a spitting enraged warg or orc.

It was only months ago when he had sat at the table of the burglar Bilbo Baggines' table, in warm fire light and the hearty laughing and drunkard singing of his familiar companions. They sung and told stories of old tales of Erebor, a home they believed they would reclaim. There they laughed, and their journey had been merry and light hearted. They joked about death, teasing Bilbo, none of them dreamed it would come to this bloodshed, no even Thorin, who was so serious and melancholic.

From the corner of his eye Thorin saw Kili, Kili son of his sister, Dis, Kili the infant he had watched over like a father, Kili who he loved, though he would never show it, and Kili lay struggling, pinned to the ground by a monstrous, growling warg. Kili's weapon was cast to the side, he lay disarmed and screaming as the warg brought its fanged jaws close to his face. The stench of its breath, reeking of dwarf and elf flesh, overpowered him, and he cowered, awaiting death.

Thorin panicked, and in a spur of anger drove Orcrist deep into the belly of the beast he was in battle with, guts spilling onto the ground. He ran to Kili with a cry of rage. Lifting the glowing blade behind his head he thrust the point into its growling jaws, up through the roof of its mouth, and into the bowels of the warg's forsaken, demented mind, piercing the tender flesh.

It slumped to the ground gurgling. A white misty glaze spread over the red eyes and it went cold. Kili lay beneath it, the mass of it slowly crushing him. Thorin grabbed the thick mattes of silver fur at the warg's back and pulled. It rolled towards him, revealing the crumpled Kili, spluttering and wide eyed. He looked at the beast's still jaws, face to face with him, the miserable destruction of his youthful bliss finally taking hold.

Thorin grasped his shoulder and brought him to his feet; Kili saw in Thorin, for a moment, the love that Thorin had for him, like a Father and son's bond that Thorin so seriously had hidden in his melancholy.

A shriek from an orc awoke both from their shocked daze and Kili ran to where his dwarfish blade lay, turning his back on Thorin, who stood so strong, bathed in golden light. He took the sword in hand, and cast away his bow, hanging from his back, snapped in two from the force of the warg. As he turned to face Thorin again and fight in honour by his uncle's side he cried aloud,

"Thorin! Behind you!"

A great seething orc towered over Thorin, behind him, unnoticed by Thorin who was engaged with fighting a small screaming banshee like goblin. Thorin skewered it and spun round to face the grotesque monster. Kili ran to his aid but it was too late, in one swift blow after Thorin had gazed upon the orc, it had driven the barbed pike it held in its claws, through his body, blood flowing steady as he drew the weapon back from inside Thorin's gut.

Kili screamed running to his side,

"No, please! No!"

Kili ran to Thorin and cradling him in his arms while the orc glowered above them laughing, enjoying the moment of Kili's bitter misery. But Thorin did not hear Kili's screaming of grief, nor the quiet whispering between calls of fury, for the world around him seemed to slow and fade, the scene blurring, in and out of focus. He saw death around him, dead faces trodden in the dirt, souls lost. He saw the arkenstone, the treasure his heart desired and then before him flashed the great emerald halls of Erebor, in glory and in flame.

Kili's desperate cries carried far, across the wind and echoed above all other death cries and screams. His brother ,Fili, knew Kili's voice like his own, the cry sent shivers of fear down his spine. Locked in battle Fili felt panic surge inside him, he knew he must help Kili, and in a sudden shock of rage he freed the orc's head from its body, letting it drop limp to the ground. He thundered past orcs and pushed through crowds of battling men. His heart leapt as he spotted Kili kneeling with a figure in his arms, cowering in the shadow of a mighty orc.

The mighty orc laughed, filled with hate and evil. Kili stared into its yellow slit eyes and shuddered, he knew this was the end, he would surely die.

Fili ran, axe raised behind his head, mouth gaping, emitting a deep bellowing cry of anger as he mustered all his strength and came behind the orc and brought it down upon his head, shattering the skull.

It roared, like one hundred bellowing bulls and lashed out at Fili with anger as it sank slowly to its knees and died.

Fili rushed to Kili who starred in awe up at him wide eyed with shock.

"I am not dead?" he whispered to Fili.

"No little brother, very much alive." Fili reassured.

Thorin groaned huskily; Fili realized who lay beside Kili. It was Thorin, his beloved uncle, who had lived in such glory, the light fading now. He clutched his side, where a wound was slit, red and gaping, the wound was mortal, too deep for him to survive.

Thorin muttered voice grinding,

"Leave me now, Kili, Fili, you can do nothing, live, and remember, stay strong. I watched you both grow up, and I should of been there for you as a Father, but I pushed you away. forgive me." He gasped with pain, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.

"There is nothing to forgive." whispered Fili, just audible for Thorin.

Silver tears started to well up in Fili's eyes, Thorin breathing deeply. Kili sat in dumbstruck horror, still in his world of joyful fantasy. He had thought they would all live, this would be a tale they would tell to their many generations after them, but never had death entered his mind, not till now. Darkness seemed to trap him.

"I am not gone yet, life has not left me yet, and yet I feel so cold." whispered Thorin, and with a last burst of energy Thorin rose, and unfolded himself to stand proud and shining.

The last glittering glimmer of sun bathed his head in a crown golden light, as he reached for his sword and for his dying people.

Fili stood by his right side and Kili by his left, weapons in hand, protecting the last of Thorin's precious life. Waves of orcs and foul creatures crashed down upon them like waves, but they never broke them. Blood flew around them, like red fire parks.

Above the three, they saw the eagles, shining in the sky, and Beorn the skin changer, as a bear, devouring the Orc filth and crushing them to dust.

"The orcs, they are losing. See Thorin! Fili, look! We are winning!" exclaimed Kili with excitement and surprise. Still the mountain crawled with orcs, they were less now, but still many.

Kili yelled, and sank to his knees, Fili following him to the ground; Thorin rushed to their aid. There were arrows, dark orc arrows, plumed with raven feathers, points of rusty iron. The points were embedded deep inside their bodies, Thorin exclaimed, a look of utter terror on his blood stained face. One of the last surviving enemies had let loose it's last arrows, and at the time when hope was highest they too had fallen, protecting their kin.

"You will not die, stay please, an elf can heal you." Thorin chocked, holding back tears. In desperation he stood, screaming help, but all around him were dead and wounded.

"Shhhhhh Thorin. It is too deep, no one can heal us now." Fili spluttered, Kili by his side.

"Fili, are we dying? Fili, the pain, it is bad, I don't want to die, not now, not here. Fili?" uttered Kili, moving his hand to Fili's shoulder for comfort.

Fili answered Kili's cries. "Little Brother, do not despair, we will wake up, and it will not be here, but somewhere where the horizon is golden, and white shores of glittering sand will welcome us. It will not be the end. I will meet you there."

Thorin sobbed, a long mournful lament, and then it was quiet, for the armies had hushed and the battle was fought.

"Don't uncle, don't be sad, love won't fade with Death. Fili are you still there?" Breathed Kili.

"Yes, by your side forever." Fili murmered.

Thorin took them in his arms, cradling their drooping heads, like he did in the glory of Erebor when they were mere infants. They laid back, blood mingling together, Fili went to hold Kili's shaking hand.

"Don't leave me, please, I never wanted this to happen. It is my fault, I don't want to lose you. Please." Thorin weeped.

"Do not think like that." Fili whispered, then spluttering, blood flowing from his mouth. "We will wait there for you, , I promise. Kili, I'm fading, Kili, keep me in your heart." Fili whispered. "Kili, you have to have to keep strength, remember years ago. As children we played by that clear blue lake, where the birds sang and-" he coughed, body flinching. "and where the birds sang and the hills were green and rolling. We played in the turquoise shallows and dreamed of adventure. Picture that moment, don't let it go."

"Fili, thank you for being there, and Thorin, farewell." Kili whispered, tears rolling from his chestnut eyes, into blood.

"Farewell, I am sorry, farewell my boys." As Thorin said this, in his head he said, 'farewell my sons', and he knew he loved them like his own children.

Kili gasped, eyes widening; his head rested back and his eyes glazed over, life leaving him. Fili felt his brother's pulse slowing, and the warmth leaving him, he lay back into the crook of Throin's arm to join his Brother. Thorin brought them close to his heart, and sobbed silently, awaiting his own death, he knew he would join them soon. And so he sung, whispering like a forlorn breeze over the hills, the words were full of remorse and memories,

Under the Mountain dark and tall

The King has come unto his hall!

His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,

And ever so his foes shall fall.

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,

The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;

The heart is bold that looks on gold;

The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep,

In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung

The light of stars, on crowns they hung

The dragon-fire, from twisted wire

The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!

O! wandering folk, the summons heed!

Come haste! Come haste! across the waste!

The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over mountains cold,

'Come back unto the caverns old'!

Here at the Gates the king awaits,

His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king is come unto his hall

Under the Mountain dark and tall.

The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,

And ever so our foes shall fall!

And so he rested his weary head, and at his side he found his friends who had found him after the battle,

He could not define the voice that said it, for his mind was weary but one uttered, "Thorin, lie still, the goblins are slain, we are in glory. Goodbye."

Their forgiveness was given to him and he felt himself growing dimmer, among their grief and tears they layed him down to lie in a long sleep, the heirs of durin fallen to dust.


End file.
